The Plan
by ADSigMel
Summary: One of the Winchesters may have just met the love of his life.  Problem is, neither Sam nor Dean really knows how, or why, exactly Leila ended up in their midst.  She has a Plan.  And she's hoping that neither of them will discover it's existence.
1. It Begins

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Rub it in my face, why dontcha? BTW, I'm not doing this every chapter, so consider this a blanket disclaimer for this fic. If I somehow gain possession of anything Supernatural-related, trust me, I'll brag here first.**

**Spoilers: Okay, kids, this takes place post-AHBL, so every conceivable spoiler is fair game. But my AHBL doesn't involve any death, destruction, or deal-making. Well, not on the part of the Winchesters, anyway. So, yeah, The Demon's dead, no Winchester children are (or were or will be) killed or otherwise irreparably harmed in reaching that end. Get there however you like. I peronally like to think that Jake's murder attempt was just unsuccessful. Sam recovers, the guys do their thing, and that's that. **

**Reviews: I like 'em. They make me happpy. LEAVE 'EM! Please. :)**

**A/N: Nothing particularly NC-17 in this first chapter, but, rest assured...I'm getting there. --cackles lecherously--**

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**Chapter One – It Begins**

From her spot behind the bar, she could hear the voices of dozens of weary, hardened, slightly-insane hunters having dozens of weary, hardened, slightly-insane conversations about dozens of weary, hardened, slightly-insane things. "…Goddamn demon possessed a three-year-old and made her throw her own mother off the balcony. I was almost relieved when the kid didn't survive the exorcism…she would have grown up fucked in the head after something like that anyway." "…Fucking _hate_ having to deal with vampire reports…half the time, they turn out to be just crazy Anne Rice fans, and I'm not allowed to kill them…" "…Heard a couple of guys actually managed to save somebody from hellhounds come to collect on a crossroads deal a few months back…" Her ears perked up at that one. She knew this story. But, before anything more could be said, the door of Harvelle's Roadhouse swung open and the bar fell silent for a moment as everyone surveyed the newcomers. _Speak of the devil_, she thought to herself, her hammering heart lodged firmly in her throat, and considered willing herself to seep through the cracks in the floorboards. Or maybe just haul ass out the back way. _Shit, what are they doing here? I'm not _ready_ for them yet!_

She took a deep breath and made as if to slink back to the storeroom, but Ellen's booming voice behind her stopped her in her tracks. "Well, if it isn't my two favorite boys in all the land! Sam, Dean, get your butts over here, I've got somebody I want you to meet!" And Ellen proceeded to drag the young bartender right out onto the floor. _Fuck…_ Alright, this is real life, babe, things won't always go according to The Plan. So improvise. She spared a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror running along the back of the bar behind the bottles of liquor. Well, at least she didn't look like total ass tonight. She was wearing form-fitting hip-hugging cords and a lacy teal tank top. She wore no makeup other than a smear of shiny pink lip gloss she had slathered on a few moments before, more out of habit than from any desire to have shiny pink lips. She thanked the voices in her head for that habit now. Her curly dark auburn hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, several ringlets escaping the elastic's confines. Cute, but definitely not trying too hard. Not trying at all, in fact. Whatever.

She barely had time to thank her lucky stars that she was having a moderately good hair day before she found herself deposited in front of Sam Winchester, Dean at his side, Ellen enthusiastically introducing them all and bragging about what a help Leila had been to her since the bar was re-built and the hunters started to come back. Jo was still off God knew where, and Ash… Well, anyway, Leila had just wandered in one day like an offering from above, looking for a job and a bed. Ellen patted Leila's shoulder fondly and looked up at Sam.

Leila tried not to shift uncomfortably. She knew enough about these men and about Ellen to know that she was being shoved full-tilt in Sam's direction, had expected it, in fact, had seen the wheels turn in the older woman's head every time she had mentioned the Winchesters. Leila had to admit, it would make perfect sense to Ellen. She hadn't bothered to lie about the fact that she was college-educated, although she had added that she was also a hunter. Seemed at the time like the best way to get a job at the Roadhouse. She probably should have claimed instead to be a survivor of a demonic possession, pissed off enough at the supernatural to want to help those seeking to destroy it, but not ballsy or crazy enough to go out and do it herself. After all, that much was true. Leila could tell you the name of every documented big bad between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and from Central America clear up to Saskatchewan. Most of them, she could also tell you at least one way to kill and _who_ had killed one most recently. Of course, her expansive knowledge didn't make Leila any more confident about her likelihood of success on a real hunt. All the theory in the world can't make your hands shop shaking enough for you to plunge that stake into the vampire's heart when all you can see are dripping fangs approaching your jugular at an almost comical rate of speed.

Sam greeted Leila with a warm open smile. She had never gotten to see him close up before. Wow. He really was ridiculously cute. And that rumored uncanny ability to put everyone at ease? Completely true. _Alright, guard up, babe. Don't let yourself be put so at ease that you'll let slip something you shouldn't._

She took a deep, but imperceptible, breath (now _that_ little skill had taken practice to master) before turning to face Dean. Hoped desperately that the steadying breath had actually…well, steadied, her. And was relieved that she was able to keep her feet underneath her. When she managed to hold her hand steady as he shook it, her smile lost most of its forcedness and became rather genuine. She was still terrified, but she was slowly gaining control of her nerves. This could be okay.

"How do you do?" she said, shaking Dean's hand firmly.

He held her grasp a little too long, and her heart skipped a beat, even though it was to be expected. The man was a flirting machine. She smiled tightly and withdrew her hand from his. _Oh, no you don't, mister_. Sam caught the slight rebuff and smirked just a bit. She pretended not to notice. _Game on, boys._


	2. Hook, Line, and Sinker

**Chapter Two – Hook, Line, and Sinker**

Ellen continued to chatter as she ushered the boys over to the bar. Leila resumed her place behind it and got the guys beers before pulling out a tumbler and a bottle of Jack Daniels for herself. "Pour me a shot of that, will ya?" Dean asked. She obliged. Sam and Ellen both declined Dean's offer to have a shot with him. "Well, what about you, then, sweetheart? Have a shot with me when you get back from wherever you're taking that?"

She looked at him, confused for a moment, hands busy with pouring ice and whiskey into her glass. Finally, she figured out what he was talking about and laughed. "Oh, this isn't an order, it's for me. But yeah, I'll do a shot with you." She poured herself a shot glass full of whiskey, clinked it against his glass, and downed it before sipping from her own glass of Jack on the rocks. She might not be a hunter, but she could sure as hell hold her liquor like one.

"So," Ellen asked, "you boys planning on sticking around for a while?"

Dean replied. "Yeah. If you've got a room available, we figured we'd crash here for a bit, take a little break. We've sent a couple dozen demons back to Hell in the past four months. Figured we were entitled to some shore leave, and we wanted to spend it with you." His words were for Ellen, but his eyes wandered in Leila's direction. She giggled just a bit, on the inside. _Well, that was fast. Whatever. As busy as they've been, he probably hasn't had any in a long time, he'll take whatever's in front of him at this point. We'll let him simmer awhile._

Ellen nodded, but she noticed Dean's hungry glance as well and determined to nip that in the bud. "Hey, Dean, why don't we take you and Sam's stuff back to the room? I'm sure Sammy'll help Leila hold down the fort." She winked conspiratorially at the older Winchester and nodded in Leila and Sam's direction. He looked almost miffed for a moment but then grinned wolfishly and stood up from his barstool to follow her out to the car. Leila watched them go. _Yep. That's the Dean I know. Always thinking of Sammy before himself._

"Smooth," Sam commented, embarrassed. Leila just shrugged. She'd figured on this happening. Hoped for it, actually. From everything she knew about Dean Winchester, she'd already figured out that the best way to get to him would be through his brother. She'd just have to make sure Sam didn't fall for her. That was definitely not part of The Plan. If her research into him was right, though, it wouldn't be a problem. She might be smart, but she was definitely not his type.

"So, how'd you and your brother…Dean, right?" _Yeah, 'cause I _totally _don't know his name better than my own. Riiiight. _Sam nodded, and she continued. "How'd y'all get into hunting?"

"Oh, we were born into it." He told her the relevant bits of the story, and she pretended to look shocked and sympathetic in all the appropriate places. She knew the story, knew more of it than he told, in fact, but she wanted to hear it from his lips. Wanted to let him feel that he was opening up to her, that he was letting her in on a secret. The telling was far more for his benefit than it was for hers in this instance. Still, she was a little surprised at how much he revealed. _Jesus, Sammy, you don't know me from Adam Housecat, and here you are telling me your whole life story…shit, I hope you don't jabber away at the demons like this. Not everybody has a spirit as benevolent as mine._

By the time Sam told her about how The Demon had finally met its end four months earlier, Dean had reappeared. "Sammy, are you braggin' again about our amazing feats of heroism and valor?"

"It's Sam," he snapped, more from reflex than anger.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, Leila, it seems that _Sam_ here has told you our entire history. So what's your deal? How'd a nice girl like you end up in a place like this?"

She took a deep breath. It was time to see if she could really pull this off. "Well," she started, "I got into hunting completely by accident. I was in North Carolina teaching Classical Studies…"

"What school?" Sam interrupted.

"You were a _teacher_?" Dean asked at the same time, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"Duke." She studiously ignored Dean's question. It was obvious that he didn't hold teachers in particularly high regard. But then, she knew that already. All part of The Plan. He didn't need to like her, he just needed to respect her…for now. "It was my first semester of teaching; I had just graduated from the program myself a couple of years before. So I was teaching Sexuality in the Ancient World, and one of my students came to my office one morning after class. Nice enough guy, I thought. He always paid attention to my lectures and everything, and his midterm paper had been absolutely brilliant. I was actually planning on talking to him about having it published. Anyway, he came to my office after class, claiming to have a question, something about the differences between ancient sexuality and Victorian sensibilities, or something. Well, his only real question seems to have been about what kind of panties I was wearing, 'cause the little creep jumped me!"

She paused for dramatic effect. Sam looked concerned. Dean appeared to have gotten stuck somewhere between Sexuality in the Ancient World and the mention of panties. _Typical_. "Well," she continued, "I couldn't help but notice that the guy's eyes were pitch black. That scared me almost as bad as the fact that this full-grown man was attacking me in my own office in broad daylight. I managed to escape, and ran straight to my priest. I may not have believed in ghosts and vampires at the time, but I had put in enough years in the Catholic church to know a fucking demon when I saw one. I was lucky. Father Flannigan, unlike the vast majority of clergy, not only believed me, he knew what to do. He had me take him to the guy's apartment, and we exorcised that demon's sorry ass right back to hell. The poor student, Geoff was his name, was absolutely horrified, not to mention scared shitless. He'd been aware of what the demon was doing the whole time, couldn't stop apologizing to me. Fortunately, I was his first target, so the demon didn't manage to do any serious harm before we got rid of him.

"Father Flannigan tried his best to leave me in the dark and send me away with as few answers as possible. But I was having none of that. I made him tell me everything he knew about demons. I was pissed, and I wanted to know what to do, on the off chance that something like that might happen to me, or to someone I loved, again. In the end, he told me the whole awful story. Not just about demons, but about everything else that you boys hunt, too. I was horrified. But I was also determined. There was no way I could sit my ass in Durham day after day teaching Greek and Latin while I knew that there were creatures running loose in the world harming innocent people. I couldn't sleep at night. So, I took what I learned from my own studies and what I gleaned from Father Flannigan, and I headed out. To hunt.

"It was rough. I had no fucking clue what I was doing, and I should have been dead a _lot_ of times over by now. It was sheer dumb luck that I stumbled across this place after only six months on the road. I'm not particularly good at hunting, and I know it. Ellen was nice enough to let me work here, so I can at least support those who fight the good fight. I lied and told her I'd been hunting for years, but she saw right through me. I was _way_ more beat-up than any seasoned hunter should have been after only a couple of angry spirits and a small wendigo. So, she lets me keep bar here, and I help out with research stuff when hunters passing through need it, 'cause that's what I'm good at. I've been here three months now. Came aboard just after she re-opened. And that's how I ended up here. Sitting with you two at a bar in Nebraska full of hunters of the paranormal."

Sam was the first to speak. "Wow," he commented. "I can't think of a single woman I know who would have dropped everything she knew to come and deal with this stuff on a daily basis."

She laughed softly. "I can't think of a single guy who wouldn't think I was a complete nut for doing it."

"Actually, the jury's still out on whether you're nuts or not," Dean commented.

Before she could respond, a hunter called from across the room, "Hey, Leila, you wanna get your ass over here and refresh my drink?"

"Hey, Henry," she retorted, "how's about you keep your mind on your pool game and off my ass?" She turned back to the Winchesters. "I'll be right back." She headed off to take Henry another beer, trying hard not to feel the burn of two pairs of Winchester eyes on her backside. _Stay cool, babe. You've put a lot of work into making that ass look awesome, and these jeans are only helping. Don't run, and don't look back. Ignore them, ignore them, ignore them._ She finally reached Henry and replaced his empty beer bottle with a full one. As she turned to go back to the bar, Henry smacked her sharply on the ass. _I knew there was a reason I hated this guy_. Her eyes narrowed, and she turned back to face him. In a deceptively calm voice, she warned, "That was your one freebie, Henry. Don't let it happen again, or bad things might happen to you." He just smirked. When she turned to walk away for a second time, he grabbed her bottom again. She stopped and shook her head, Sam and Dean forgotten for the moment. _Ohhh, this is gonna hurt_. She whipped around, and punched the man in the eye before he had time to react. It helped that the man was on his seventh beer of the evening and wasn't expecting a girl almost a foot shorter than him and half his weight to deck him with all her strength. The punch made him think twice, but it was nowhere near enough to put him down, so she followed up with a swift kick to the family jewels. _That_ did put him down. He sank to his knees, holding his crotch. She stepped back out of his reach and crossed her arms. "There now, Henry. How do you like it when someone touches _you_ in an inappropriate manner?" She turned on her heel and stalked back to the bar, fuming, her hand feeling damn near broken. _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, is that fucker's eye socket made of _concrete_ or something?! Guess that's what my five-foot-one, hundred-and-three pound ass gets for punching a guy built like a damn brick wall._

The fact that Dean was looking at her with a new appreciation when she returned to the bar almost made the pain shooting up her right arm worth it. Almost.

"Got a bit of a temper there, have you?" he asked, amused.

"I dislike being touched without permission. I might work in a bar, but I've got the same rights to my own personal autonomy as anyone else, okay?"

"Whoa, there," he said quickly, raising his hands in placation. "I was just making a simple observation. Looked to me like that clown got exactly what was coming to him. For a girl who claims to have been a bad hunter, though, you sure pack one hell of a punch."

"Yeah, well, it's easy enough to punch a drunk who didn't see it coming, especially when he's corporeal. That shit doesn't so much work on the poltergeists, though."

Sam laughed. "That's for damn sure." He quickly drained his beer, then stood. "I'm turning in, guys. Good meeting you, Leila. See you tomorrow?"

"I'll be right here."

He headed off toward his and Dean's room, leaving Leila alone with his brother. _And now the real fun begins._

For the next several hours, Leila and Dean talked. Actually, he made her do most of the talking. She told him about her family, how her parents had been killed when a tornado destroyed their house when she was just a baby. She had been found, miraculously unharmed, and her maternal grandmother had raised her. The woman had been old as dirt when she took custody of Leila, and had lasted just long enough to see her grandchild graduate from college before succumbing to the call of mortality in her sleep one night.

She had grown up on a farm in rural Alabama. Her first pet had been a cow whose mother had died while giving birth, so she had raised it, bottle-fed it, and cried like a baby when it was sent off to the stockyard. She had loved singing for as long as she could remember, and had sung in choir throughout college. She loved all kinds of music, and would sing along to country, pop, rock, show tunes, and occasionally even opera. She loved to knit and never wore anything in the winter except sweaters she had made herself. Her favorite dessert was chocolate cake, and she baked an excellent one. It was about the only thing she _could_ bake, other than cornbread, and she had only learned to make it so that she would have an excuse to buy a stand mixer. She was an excellent cook though, had learned from her Granny, who made the best gumbo east of Louisiana. Before she took up hunting, she had watched a lot of television and movies, and she loved brainless romantic comedies and silly sitcoms. She loved to read, especially Victorian-era novels. Jane Austen was her favorite author. She loved fresh flowers, especially stargazer lilies, and had been considering adding a greenhouse on the grounds of the farm, which had passed to her when her grandmother died. She'd given up on that idea and sold the farm, though, when she had decided to go out on the road. Now, she didn't have a home other than Harvelle's Roadhouse, and everything she owned could be packed and tossed into the back of her Jeep within three minutes.

By the time she ran out of things to talk about, it was four in the morning and the roadhouse was empty save the two of them and the empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the bar between them.

He helped her wipe down the tables and stack the chairs for the night. "How long do you suppose you'll stay in town?" she asked as they worked.

"Oh, I dunno. I was thinking just a couple of days, but we've got nowhere urgent to get to just now. We can stay awhile." She nodded. "Besides," he continued with a smirk, "I think Sammy'll want to stay here with you as long as he can. Not everyday he meets a hot chick that's as smart as him." _Fuck. Come on Dean, don't get too stuck on the idea of me and Sam. Not gonna happen._

"Oh, I daresay Sam's a great deal smarter than me. And did you just call me a 'hot chick,' Dean Winchester? You better be glad I'm not a feminist, or I'd have to hurt you for that one."

"Hurt me? Darlin', I'm not near as drunk as old Henry. I sincerely doubt you could take me."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Hey, you started it, but sure, if you wanna try me, come on."

The words had barely left his mouth before she launched herself at him, catching him off guard. The element of surprise was always her best weapon. She managed to throw him off balance, but he didn't fall, just stepped back and kicked her legs out from under her. Unlike him, she hit the ground in a graceless heap and immediately found herself pinned under Dean, his legs straddling her thighs, his hands trapping her forearms against the floor. "Well, damn," she breathed. "Guess it's a good thing I gave up hunting, huh?"

"Yeah," he smirked. "Good thing."

She felt fairly certain that he was cognizant of the implications of the position in which he had her fastened to the ground, but she wiggled her hips against him, just to back sure, then said casually, "Now that you've kicked my ass, you wanna let me up so I can finish my job, darlin'?" His eyelids had dropped halfway upon her movement and she felt a suspicious pressure against her left thigh. But after a moment, he opened his amazing hazel green eyes and stared into hers. She swallowed hard and made a conscious effort not to raise her head toward his to kiss him. For a little while, time seemed to stand still, and she found herself wondering if he was going to kiss her instead. But then the moment passed and he hopped to his feet before reaching down to pull her upright.

"You're blushing," he informed her.

"I most certainly am not," she snapped, irrationally angry at him for almost making her deviate from The Plan. _Leila, it's not time for kissing, not yet. You've got to get the hell away from this man before you become the latest in a long string of pathetic one-night stands._ Straightening her clothes, she quickly finished stacking the chairs and walked toward her bedroom. "Well, Dean, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. G'night." She walked into her room and shut the door behind her before he had time to respond. _Well, he's definitely interested. He might be the infallible Dean Winchester, but I've got my Plan, and I'm thinkin' if I give him a little more rope, he just might hang himself before the week's out._


	3. The Fishbowl

**Chapter Three – The Fishbowl**

_Well, so much for a good night's sleep_, Leila thought to herself, rubbing her eyes and dragging herself toward the shower. It was nine in the morning, and she had managed less than two hours of fitful sleep. The fact that there were real live Winchesters sleeping under the same roof as her stole any possibility of her getting to actually rest. She almost fell asleep in the shower, but the water managed to rouse her enough that she could get dressed and stumble into the kitchen in search of caffeine. Ellen, thank God, was already up and about, and the smell of strong, hot coffee filled the Roadhouse. By the time she had downed the first cup, Leila was starting to feel human again.

"So," Ellen began, seating herself beside Leila at the table. The younger woman groaned internally. She knew what was coming. Ellen had that let's-gossip look on her face. _Dude, why don't you call Jo sometimes and bug her about _her_ damn love life?_ But she knew that Ellen meant well, and the two loved each other like mother and daughter, even if their entire relationship _did_ happen to be based on an intricate foundation of omissions, half-truths, and outright lies. "What do you think of Sam?"

"Oh, he seems nice enough, I suppose. So does Dean," she replied, deliberately keeping her voice noncommittal.

"Well, I happen to think that you and Sam will get along very well. I mean, with you both being so book-smart and all, I'm sure you've got lots of things in common."

"Maybe. Like I said, he seems nice enough. I'm sure we'll all get along fine for as long as they're here."

"Oh, Leila, why do you have to be so difficult? Sam is smart and funny and sweet and polite, and he's pretty damn easy on the eyes, too. I would have shoved my Jo in his direction a long time ago if it weren't for the fact that the silly girl's only got eyes for Dean." Leila's head shot up in surprise at that last bit, but Ellen didn't notice. She continued, "I really think that you and Sam would make a perfect couple. You should give him a chance, honey!"

Leila raised an eyebrow. "Ellen, has Sam given you any indication whatsoever that he's interested in me? Or in any sort of relationship with anyone, for that matter? I mean, you're the one that told me about Madison. That was only six months ago. If I'd gotten at all involved with anyone, even just for a couple of days, and then I had to kill them like that? I don't know that I'd be able to _ever_ let anyone get close again. Combine that with the whole Jessica issue, and I wouldn't be surprised if the poor guy's sworn off women for life."

Ellen just shrugged. "Kid's gotta get back in the saddle. And if anybody can help him get past all his issues, it's you."

"Okay, first of all, I'm nobody's saddle. And second, I didn't sign on to solve anybody's personal problems. I like the guy, Ellen, I'll give you that much. But if a relationship's in the cards, it'll happen, and if it's not, then it won't. You're right, we do have a lot in common, and I think we'll be friends either way. But more than that? I don't know. I'm just not feeling any chemistry there."

Ellen shrugged again. "Like you said, things will turn out just as they're supposed to. Nothing we can do about that."

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Leila casually asked, "So, you mentioned that Jo's got a thing for Dean? That's the first I've heard you talk about anything between the two of them."

"That's because there _isn't_ anything between the two of them. It's all on her side. He flirts with her, just like he flirts with everybody else. But that boy knows I would cut his pecker off and beat him with it if he ever so much as laid a finger on my child. I wouldn't let Dean Winchester get involved with my cocker spaniel if I had one. He's got bad news written all over him."

Leila swallowed hard. _Well, Jeez, I knew she thought him a bit…roguish. But this is ridiculous. Definitely not part of The Plan. If she wouldn't let him be with Jo, maybe she won't let him be with me either!_ "What do you mean, Ellen? He seems harmless enough to me. I mean, after all, he and Sam do a lot of good in the world, and he was perfectly nice to me last night."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love him like a son, I feel that way about both of those boys. But Dean Winchester is jut a little too damn charming for his own good, and believe me, he knows it. He runs through women faster than he runs through socks, left behind a string of broken hearts that'd stretch from here clear to Cheyenne."

"Hmm," Leila murmured. Well, that much she'd gathered already, and it hadn't deterred her yet.

The women's conversation was cut short when Sam walked into the kitchen in search of coffee. Leila poured him a cup, and he joined the women at the table. "What's up?" he asked. Leila gave Ellen a warning look and replied, "Oh, nothing. We were just chatting about girl stuff." Ellen gave a half-smile and stood saying, "Well, I've gotta go run some errands in town. You kids can hang out here, I'll be back in a couple of hours." With a wink in Leila's direction, she fairly skipped out the door.

Sam groaned. "Subtlety has never been Ellen's strong suit."

"Yeah, I'm learning that," Leila replied with a sigh.

"Look, Leila, I, uh…I don't know what your situation is, but I'm not really… I mean, I know Ellen means well, but, like… I'm not looking to get involved with anyone right now, so…"

"Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed before she could edit herself, then stopped short at the look on Sam's face. "Oh my gosh, Sam, I didn't mean it like that," she hurried to add, blushing furiously. "I just…I mean, I'm not looking to get into a relationship right now either."

"Oh. Well. Good…that's good. I'm glad we, uh…cleared that up."

She nodded for a moment. "Hmmm. Well, that was awkward."

"Yeah." He laughed. "Oh, well, now that's out of the way…"

Her laughter joined his as she commented, "Ellen will be so displeased. Does she try to set you up often?"

"Nope, she's never done that before. She must think pretty well of you."

"Oh? She's never tried to set me up with anyone either, so she must think pretty highly of you, too. But then, I already knew that from the way she's talked about you and Dean. She thinks of you two like her own children."

"Yeah, I know. And we feel the same way about her."

They sat in companionable silence until Dean staggered in, searching for his morning infusion of caffeine. Leila poured him a cup, and Sam excused himself to shower. Dean settled himself beside her. "So," he began. "About last night…" His voice trailed off.

"What about last night? You planning on beating me up again?" she teased.

"I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about –"

"Don't sweat it, Dean. There's nothing to talk about."

"Well, it's just, you know…I thought you hit it off pretty well with Sammy, and God knows that kid could use a little companionship, so –"

"Neither Sam nor I is interested in getting involved, with each other or with anyone else."

He thought for a moment about the implications of that statement. "Oh. Well. Okay, then. In that case, I thought I'd go out and take a look around Ellen's new place. You wanna show me around?"

"I'm sure you can find your own way around the Roadhouse, Dean," she said dryly. "But I could use a little fresh air, so, sure, I'll walk with you. Why not?"

As they walked, the conversation flowed more naturally than she would have expected. It was considerably cooler than the days had been in previous weeks, an airy breeze freshening the early October mid-morning, and she pulled her light sweater more tightly around her shoulders. Eventually, the pair stopped and sat on a large tree stump out behind the Roadhouse. As they sat and talked, the beauty of the day took effect, and a sense of well-being came over them. She smiled blindingly up at him for no reason at all, the light catching her eyes and the highlights in her hair. He stopped mid-sentence and stared.

"What is it?" she asked, a bit concerned.

"Nothing." He paused. "It's just that you're incredibly beautiful when you smile. You should do it more often."

"Oh," she breathed quietly. She looked across the field and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "You're blushing again," he noted. Punching him on the arm, she giggled and told him to shut up. He punched her back, then they both laughed as a lusty male pigeon nearby strutted back and forth before a female that he apparently wanted to court.

"So, are you planning on working for Ellen indefinitely?"

"I don't know, I hadn't really thought about it. I mean, I'm happy here and everything. But honestly? Sometimes working at the Roadhouse is like living in a damn fishbowl. Everybody knows everything about everybody. For such secretive people, hunters sure are nosy. It's nice, though. Being part of a community. Just being out here, period. I hear it snows pretty hard out here in the winters, though. And I hate snow with a passion. I mean, I guess it's probably nice when you get snowed in with someone you really care about. But I've never had that experience, so I don't know."

Dean shrugged. "If you want to spend time with someone special, a good solid rain shower is just as good as a blizzard, I think." He looked up at the clouds before continuing. "Speaking of rain showers, I think we should probably head in."

"What are you talking about? It's supposed to be seventy degrees and sunny all week long," she informed him. "There's no way it's going to…"

She stopped short as a fat raindrop landed on the bridge of her nose. He laughed at her expression of surprise, just before the sky opened up and a freezing cold downpour proceeded to soak them both to the skin. Squealing and grabbing his hand, she bolted across the lawn back into the Roadhouse. Once inside, she wrung out her hair and shivered. "Well, that was unpleasant," she commented.

"Oh, not so unpleasant. Gives me a chance to see you in wet clothes."

She rolled her eyes at him and noted, "I'm probably gonna catch pneumonia and die, and then who'll serve up your beers?"

"Well, we'd better get you dried off, then." He grabbed a dry dishrag from behind the bar and started running it over her bare arms. She laughed, but stepped away. "Somehow, I don't think that's gonna do the job. I'm gonna go change into something dry. And then, I think I'll take a nap. If I recall correctly, you kept me up pretty late, and I've gotta work tonight."

"Oh. Well, I guess I'll see ya later, then."

She nodded and went to her room. Once inside, with the door closed, she let out a sigh. The Roadhouse had just become a fishbowl in earnest, and it was time for the show to truly begin.


	4. Leila the Freak

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this one out. Also sorry that The Plan isn't exactly revealed herein. Seriously. It's coming. Eventually. I'm getting there. I promise.**

**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Four – Leila the Freak**

_OCTOBER 14, 2004_

Leila sat at the reference desk on the bottom floor of the library, trying desperately to stop letting her eyes land on couples. _What the fuck are all these couples studying together for? Aren't there any pissy little boyfriends and girlfriends on this stupid campus that_ aren't_ in classes together?_ At least all the fraternity and sorority pledges were initiated by now, so they weren't constantly coming up to her wanting her to sign off on their study hours, even though she had never seen them before and would guess that they had probably been snorting coke in the bathroom instead of studying. She sighed and looked at the clock again. Eleven-thirty on a Thursday night. Only another fifteen minutes before she could start herding the patrons up to the circulation desk and then out the doors. Another fifteen minutes before she had to face the fourth floor.

It was part of her job to close down the fourth floor of the library every night, the floor where the scholarly journals were housed. Only, over the past two months, she had been forced six times to forego fulfilling those responsibilities. Because, over the past two months, six women, all tall, thin, blonde sorority girls, had plunged from the fourth-floor windows to their deaths on the concrete below. There was no indication that any of the deaths had been suicides, but no one else was on the floor when it happened, and things like that don't just happen by accident. The police were stumped, but there was nothing they could no, with no leads and no suspects.

Leila rolled her eyes. Those girls probably got exactly what was coming to them. It had taken her all of three weeks to put the pieces together. It was obviously the angry spirit of Johanna Peters doing the killing. The girl had been a pledge of Pi Kappa Mu sorority in the sixties. Her pledge class had been forced to break into the library one fall night, only a week before they were to be initiated. It was one of their requirements to get through what was known as Hell Week. Well, Johanna had somehow ended up crashing through the window and hurtling through the balmy fall air to land on the stone steps in front of the library. It did not end well for her. Or for her sorority. They were kicked off campus for so long that by the time they came back, their membership had changed from blondes to red-heads. That would make no difference to poor Johanna, though. At least, Leila hoped, it wouldn't make a difference to Johanna, tucking a strand of curly auburn hair back into the severe bun from which it had escaped. Wouldn't it just beat all if Johanna confused Leila for a sorority bimbo and flung _her_ through the window?

Leila Langford was about as far from a sorority girl as one could get and still be in college. Well, for one thing, she was a grad student, a semester-and-a-half away from her masters degree in Library and Information Studies. But even as an undergrad, Leila had been the kind of girl that sorority women laughed at. Painfully short, not a single curve to be found on her entire frame, horn-rimmed glasses, dressed like the librarian she aspired to be, couldn't tell you the difference between mascara and lip liner to save a nation. That was Leila. Always had been.

Her parents had died in a tornado, when she was three months old. They never even made it down the hall to get her out of her crib, crushed by the roof collapsing on their bed as they slept. She, meanwhile, by some miracle – or perhaps curse, she sometimes thought – had been found halfway down the block, not a scratch on her, still swaddled just as her mother had left her when she tucked her into bed. Her mother's mother had taken her in. By the time Leila arrived on her grandmother's doorstep, the woman was pushing seventy-five. Still in perfectly good health, but rather older than the typical guardian of an orphaned infant. But there was no one else willing to take the child, and Leila's grandmother would die before she saw her grandbaby placed in foster care. So, Leila grew up in a house that smelled like mothballs.

Leila had been seen as something of a freak from an early age. For one thing, her grandmother insisted on dressing her in garments that she had pulled from the back of her own closet, where they had resided since the early seventies. Contact lenses were out of the question. Young ladies did not rouge their faces unless they were looking for trouble. If a young man wants to court you, he may visit me to ask for permission, and if I know his parents and they are respectable people, then I will allow him to come to dinner at our home on occasion. Yeah. Leila was a freak.

By middle school, she had started dabbling in the occult, just searching desperately for any escape from the world in which she lived. Some people read happy novels about happy people and their happy lives. Such nonsense merely depressed Leila. She wanted real solutions to her problems, not just temporary reprieve. So she researched spells, chants, hexes, anything to make her less of a pariah. Nothing worked. She believed that it _could_ work. She just didn't have what it took to make things happen. Still, she enjoyed learning about magic, and other aspects of the supernatural as well. She thought perhaps her grandmother's attic was haunted, but she never got up the nerve to really try to find out. Besides, if there was a ghost up there, it didn't seem interested in bothering her as long as she didn't bother it, so she kept her distance.

By the time she escaped to college, she was so set in her ways that it didn't really matter anymore that people thought she was a freak. She _was_ a freak, and she didn't know how to change it, and she told herself that she didn't care enough to try. Maybe she didn't. It still hurt, though. She graduated with a bachelors degree in Classical Studies. Her grandmother lived just long enough to see it happen, although she was still livid that Leila had elected to go to college instead of getting married. Leila wondered how exactly the woman expected her to find a husband when she was a complete social misfit, and she wasn't allowed to date anyway. Her grandmother's last words to her were, "At least I got to see your cousins Marla and Maeve get married and give me a few great-grandbabies." Leila just nodded sadly and waited for the old bag to die. They had never gotten along. She had never gotten along with any of her family. They were all perfect apple-pie people. And she was…well, she was Leila. Leila the outcast.

The only place where Leila shone was in the library. Despite her…odd…tendencies, she was really very good with helping people find the answers to questions. And she was organized to a fault. She was born to be a librarian. Either that, or those stupid school-teacher skirts her grandmother had always made her wear predisposed her to the reference lifestyle.

Leila was pulled back to the present by a sight that had been periodically making her toes quiver for the past two days. A tall man in his mid-twenties with dark hair and sultry eyes strolled in the front doors, directly across from her desk. As usual, he had with him an older man, also strikingly handsome. Leila assumed it to be his father. They had come in a couple of days before, asking about the fourth floor. About the girls. She had figured they were just playing at detectives, so she fed them the same tired lines the newspapers had reported. No signs of foul play. Tragic accidents. Condolences to the families and friends. Blah, blah, blah.

The younger guy, who had introduced himself as James Hetfield, had actually flirted with her a little when he asked her about the deaths. She was no fool. It was easy enough to see that flirting was second nature for this man, he wasn't actually interested in her. Duh. Who _would_ be interested in Leila the freak? Definitely not this sex-god. Anyway, the guys had gone up to the fourth floor to look around, and she had watched as shortly later they walked back out the front doors of the library. She hadn't seen them again until tonight, but she had thought about James. Often. How could she not? The man was absolutely delicious. Way out of her league – not that there were any members of the opposite sex who _weren't_ – but she could still look, right? So, she was excited to see them walk into the building again. This time, though, they didn't stop to chat, just headed straight for the elevators. The father didn't even glance in her direction, but James nodded to her as he passed by, and she fought the urge to giggle girlishly. But then, a patron came over to ask a question, and it was actually a good question. So Leila focused on her job, and lost track of time.

Suddenly, she realized that it was a few minutes until midnight. Closing time. The reference section, fortunately, was already empty, so she didn't have to try to evict any stragglers. She assumed that James and his father had left while she was helping someone else, and felt a pang of sadness that she hadn't gotten to see her minor crush again. She had no clue if he'd ever be back to the library. Shrugging her shoulders – not like she had a chance with him, anyway – she decided to forego the elevator, and headed up the back stairwell to turn out the lights on the fourth floor, hoping against hope that Johanna wasn't planning on tossing her to her death that night.

As she opened the doors on the fourth floor, she heard males voices, and headed in their direction to let them know it was time to clear out. But before she got to where she could see them, she made out what they were saying.

"Dad, the body was cremated. The only reason she can still be here is if there's something of hers left that _holding_ her here."

"I realize that, but it could be _anything_. A lock of her hair that her boyfriend or her mother kept on a locket, a voodoo doll that somebody made of her…it could be anything. We need to at least try to cleanse the building before we go disturbing those people."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"If it doesn't work, we'll just have to keep at it. Maybe see if she left some unfinished business we can help her with."

"Yeah, I'll tell you what her unfinished business is. It's killing the people that let her die. Too bad she doesn't realize that those people aren't still hanging around here waiting for her to come and off them." Leila heard James sigh heavily. "When will people learn to stop remodeling buildings where people died? That's the best way I know of to wake a restless spirit and make it start throwing hot sorority chicks out of fourth-floor windows."

Leila smirked a bit. It figured that a guy like James would be into the "hot sorority chicks." She quickly ducked behind a bookshelf as she heard steps coming toward her. James walked past, and she heard his father go off in the other direction. She could distantly hear him start to chant, and James did the same in the corner to which he had gone. She couldn't quite make out the words, but it was definitely Latin, and it sounded like…an exorcism? No way. Were these two idiots actually playing at _exorcism_?

Leila was trying not to laugh at their antics, when the lights suddenly began to flicker and the temperature dropped dramatically. _Oh, fuck. You geniuses have managed to piss off Johanna. We're all in for it now_. She peeked her head around the corner, just in time to see an alarmingly transparent figure appear just to the right of James. Leila recognized the woman from the pictures. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, curvy, beautiful Johanna Peters, dressed in clothes that were probably the height of fashion in the sixties, when she died. She didn't look happy. _Huh. I guess their exorcism must be working, otherwise she wouldn't look so miffed_. James caught sight of Johanna coming toward him and raised a shotgun that Leila hadn't seen in his hand. _Oh, yeah? And what exactly are you planning on doing with that, buddy? You gonna kill her again?_ He fired the gun directly at the spectral figure's head, and _oh shit, did this psycho seriously just fire a shotgun at a ghost inside a university library?_ But the ghost screamed in fury and dissipated. James finished the ritual, then went to another corner of the room, where he repeated the process. Leila observed his father doing the same before taking the opportunity to sneak back out to the stairwell, carefully checking to make sure that neither man caught a glimpse of her.

She stood for a moment, breathing heavily. _Well, knock me over with a fucking feather. Those men just exorcised a ghost from the scholarly journals section of my library._ She slowly crept back down to her desk to try and figure out just who the hell this James Hetfield character was. It took her all of a minute and a half to complete her research. And James Hetfield sure as hell wasn't the guy she had met. Not unless he had somehow made himself a good fifteen years younger and decided to give up his lucrative career as the lead singer of Metallica. _Fuck, I knew that name sounded familiar._

As she sat, trying to make sense in her head of what had just happened, she heard hushed voices coming from around the corner. "So, do you think it worked?" That was 'James.'

"I don't know, Dean. I get the feeling it did, though. We'll stick around a few days, just to make sure." _Dean? Well, now we're getting somewhere._

"Works for me. I think I'll hit the bars and see if there aren't some hot sorority chicks that need consolation over the loss of their dearly departed sisters." _Jackass._

The men turned the corner, and Leila hurriedly closed the Metallica fansite she had been inspecting. "Gentlemen, the library is now closed," she informed them. "If you have any materials you'd like to check out, you'll need to take them up to the circulation desk right away."

The father spoke. "No, I think we're done here." Dean shifted the bag he carried further onto his shoulder and smiled disarmingly at her. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Good night, then," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

The men walked out the front doors. She followed, on the pretense of needing to lock the doors, but watched to see them climb into an old black Chevy Impala. Leila wasn't really into cars, but she recognized quality when she saw it, and this car was definitely something to write home about. She noticed that Dean was walking with a new bounce in his step. Probably excited about getting to console the hot sorority chicks. Leila rolled her eyes, but there was something about him that she found absolutely irresistible. And it wasn't just his looks, either, although they definitely contributed. There was something in his eyes, in the way that he interacted with his dad, in the way he ran his fingers along the top of the car before opening the door to climb behind the wheel. And the fact that he had just rid her building of an evil spirit definitely gave him some brownie points in her book. She wasn't quite ready to let this rather exceptional man walk out of her life just yet. It looked like Leila, for maybe the second time in her life, was about to hit the bars.


	5. Stealth Mode

**Chapter Five – Stealth Mode**

Leila quickly shut down the library, stopping to note as she turned off the lights on the fourth floor that it felt distinctly less ominous than it had in previous years. Maybe, just maybe, those guys knew what they were doing. Maybe Johanna was gone after all.

Moving on auto-pilot, her mind in a fog, she locked the library doors, walked across the parking lot to her car, and drove the few blocks to her apartment. Who were those men? How did they know how to get rid of Johanna's ghost? Why did they care? Why did they give her false names? How could she unravel this mystery, find out who they really were? She attempted to stop herself, but her thoughts drifted to Dean's lips. How would they feel against her skin? What could she do to make them curve into a smile meant only for her and no one else? Would they taste as absolutely sinful as they looked?

At home, she only allowed herself a moment to think about what she was doing. Just long enough to get close to talking herself out of it. _You're wasting your time. You're just going to see him with tons of beautiful, sexy women, and it's going to remind you of what a loser you are. Don't go out among those people, Leila. You've seen _Carrie_, they'll probably dump a bucket of pig's blood on you._ When she took a moment to realize how stupid that last thought was, she decided to stop thinking, throw on something close enough to what normal people wear that she could at least blend into the crowd, and go find Dean Whatever-his-last-name-is.

She finally found him at the Talon a little after one. He was sitting at the bar, half-covered by a buxom blonde who was obviously drunk off her ass. Leila slid stealthily into a booth in the corner. Years of relentless heckling had forced her to develop the ability to be invisible, so no one spared her a second glance. She was free to observe him, as he flirted with the woman all over him. _Like that's even necessary. Don't worry, Dean, I'm almost positive this one's a sure thing._ Okay, so he's an incorrigible flirt. That much I could have guessed. But who is he really?

A few minutes after Leila arrived, Dean and his "companion" headed for the door. She casually slid out of her booth and followed them down the street. The blonde was practically yelling every word out of her mouth, she was so plastered. "So, your last name's Winchester? Like the, like, gun?" Leila couldn't hear Dean's reply, but she saw him nod his head clearly enough. _Dean Winchester, then. Now we're getting somewhere._

Dean led the ditzy drunk to his car, which was parked in a darkened alley near the bar, and half-poured her into the backseat. Leila considered sticking around to see what happened next, but she figured she could guess where this was going and didn't need to see it for herself. She headed for home, to do a little research.

She quickly found that Dean Winchester had been born in Lawrence, Kansas. His father was John Winchester, and he had a younger brother by the name of Sam. She found all of this from a newspaper article from November of 1983. Apparently, the mother, Mary, had been killed in a house fire. The initial articles intimated that the father might have had something to do with it, but she was unable to find anything else about that, and the fire was officially declared to have been accidental. After a couple of months, all three dropped off the radar. On a whim, she did a general search for Sam Winchester. _Stanford University, Poli/Sci/Pre-law. So that's where the little brother is._ Sam was 21 and in his third year at Stanford. She figured he must be some smart kid to be at such a good school, and wondered if he was as good-looking as his dad and his brother. Since the other two seemed to be doing a pretty good job staying under the radar, she thought she'd follow up on the Sam lead, and come back later to dig a bit deeper for the other two.

For the rest of the semester, she researched and thanked her lucky stars that this masters degree had been worth something. Leila concentrated on her classes during the week, but spent her nights and weekends following up on leads. She dreamt one night just before getting her degree about the whole Johanna incident, and woke up wondering if this was maybe something that the Winchester duo did for a living. So, she started researching the paranormal again, and found something interesting. A _lot_ of the supernatural incidents that had been going on across the country had suddenly just _stopped_. Without warning, without any reasonable explanation, had just stopped. It had been happening as far back as she could dig. And she wondered why.

It took awhile, but she finally started to ask herself if maybe there _was_ an explanation, and it just wasn't reported to the major media networks. Started to wonder if maybe it hadn't been people like Dean and John Winchester, doing the dirty work that no one else would have even thought to do. And as good as she was sure the Winchesters must be at their "job," even they couldn't be taking care of _all_ the supernatural incidents going on across the country. There were others out there helping. And if there were others, then maybe they were all connected in some way. Like a network of ghostbusters. That's the way to find him, to get close to him. She had to join the network. Unfortunately, she suspected, it probably wouldn't be quite as easy as going out and getting cell phone service with Verizon.

By now, it was summer. She was done with school, and had gone home to the farm. The animals were all long gone and she had sold off most of the surrounding land when Granny had died, but it would always be a farm to her. The old woman had left everything to Leila, including the house and a sizeable monetary inheritance, so Leila wouldn't have to worry about money for the next decade or so. She elected, then, to spend her time putting together a Plan. Her goal: Snag Dean. It was ridiculous, and she knew perfectly well that it would never happen. But, hell, what did she have to lose? She wanted him. More than wanted, in fact. She needed him. An incredibly sexy man who was a real live hero? It was a no-brainer. She was going to find him, and he was going to fall in love with her. Okay, so maybe this made her a bit of a psycho stalker. Whatever. She was Leila the freak. What more could you expect?

Over the next year, she laid the groundwork, based on her research. She took a two-week trip to Palo Alto in the fall to do a little digging on Sam. She wasn't foolhardy enough to try to get close to Sam himself. If he was going to eventually become her brother-in-law, he couldn't know that she had been stalking his family. But she had found out that he was a member of the Stanford Pre-Law Society, so she went to one of its meetings. Sam wasn't there. But, she discovered, his live-in girlfriend, Jess, was. This was definitely a best-case scenario for Leila. At the end of the meeting, she introduced herself to Jess as Norah, told her she was a new student. It was one time that Leila was glad she could pass for an 18-year-old, even though she had recently turned 25. She and Jess grabbed a cup of coffee together and chatted. Leila skillfully maneuvered the conversation to Sam, claiming that she had never dated before and felt like something of an outcast, but really wanted to change that persona now that she was in college.

"_Do you have a boyfriend, Jess?" Leila asked._

_The beautiful blonde smiled. "Yeah. I've got an amazing boyfriend. And, don't tell anyone I told you this, but I think he might be planning on proposing soon."_

"_Really? Oh my gosh, that's awesome! So, what's he like?"_

"_Well, he's really good-looking. Tall, shaggy brown hair, incredible soulful eyes. And, Norah, he's so smart. I mean, he scored practically off the charts on his LSAT, he can go to any law school he wants. He's incredible."_

"_Wow, sounds like a real catch. Does he have a brother?" she teased. _Wow, Jess, you totally set that one up for me.

"_Actually, yeah, he does. His name's Dean. He's way too old for you, though, babe. And I don't think they really get along. Before a few days ago, I had never even met Dean or their dad, John." Leila inhaled sharply at the mention of having met the other Winchesters so recently, but Jess didn't notice. She continued, "Their mother died when Sam was a baby. Between you and me, I think Sam is probably better off without them. I mean, what kind of family are they to just leave Sam all alone out here? This is our last year of college, and I don't think Sam has spoken to either of them even once since he got here. He never told me why. He just doesn't like to talk about his family."_

"_Wow. That's really sad. But you said you met them a few days ago?"_

"_Well, I met Dean. It was the strangest thing, Norah. He just showed up at our apartment late at night and told Sam that John was missing. He was on a hunting trip or something and hadn't checked in for awhile, which is, apparently, uncommon. So Sam went off with Dean to look for him."_

"_A hunting trip? Odd. So Sam's off with Dean right now?" _Jesus. So Dean himself was here just a few nights ago. And apparently Jess doesn't know what kind of hunting they do.

"_Yeah. He left me a message this morning while I was in class. Said he'd be back tonight. He didn't say if they'd found their dad, but I guess he must have, otherwise he wouldn't be coming back so soon."_

"_Yeah, I guess so. Well, what did you think of Dean?"_

_Jess laughed. "Well, he's no Sam, but he's pretty good-looking himself. I only saw him for a few minutes, though, and then they were gone. I think he must be something of a flirt. He totally perved on me, right in front of Sam. Jackass. Anyway, I'm glad Sam's coming back tonight. I've really missed him!"_

_The women chatted for a few more minutes before Norah excused herself, saying that she needed to get back to her dorm to study._

"_We should hang out together again sometime," Jess said. "I'd like you to meet Sam."_

"_I'd like that," Norah lied. She couldn't meet Sam yet. "I'll see you at next week's meeting?" Even though she knew full well that she'd be back in Alabama by then._

"_Sure thing."_

The next morning, she read in the newspaper that Jess had been killed in a house fire the night before. Fuck. Poor Sam. She wondered if Dean was still in town, and figured she had better finish up her work in Palo Alto quickly before they managed to run into each other. She was sure he wouldn't remember her from the library haunting almost a year before, but she didn't want to take any chances. So she quickly located Jennifer Donovan, who Jess had said was her best friend, under the pretense of wanting to console her. Jennifer seemed happy enough to meet "Norah," but had no clue where Sam was. She said he had called her the previous night to tell her what had happened and that he just couldn't be in town right now. He was going off with his brother and didn't know when he'd be back. If he'd be back.

Well, this was interesting. So Sam and Dean were back together, and they had either found or were looking for their father. No need doing anymore research on Sam, then. If he was with Dean now, then they were undoubtedly "hunting." She hadn't really had a word for what they did before, but hunting made sense. _Thanks for that bit of information, Jess._ She really was sad about Jess's death. The girl had been so happy and in love. She wondered what had caused the…house fire? _What is it with the Winchesters' women being killed in house fires? Interesting._ Maybe the fire that killed Mary Winchester had been more than just an ordinary fire. And maybe the one that killed Jess was, too. She needed to get into the hunters' network. Now. It was the only way to get to the bottom of this, to really find out what made Dean Winchester tick. And once she knew that, she could find a way into his life.


End file.
